SeeTryFly

Mother’s day was peaceful and wonderful. Pat made a delicious brunch that featured new table linens from Grandma and Meggie. The kids planted me an herb garden with a few vegetables and flowers. The day was filled with family time, just hanging out and enjoying one another.

Today is a different kind of mothers day… Grandma is gone and Pat is at work and there are four kids in the house with just me! So far we’ve managed to make it work. Everyone is alive, fed and reasonably happy. Maybe I can do this after all? I fully admit to a jar of sauce and a box of spaghetti for dinner.

I’ve been trying to write this post all week!

We picked strawberries on the first day of u-pick in beautiful spring weather.  It ended up being 21 pounds which has turned into ten jars of jam, strawberry shortbread cookies, two containers of ice cream, a breakfast of french toast with sliced strawberries and strawberry syrup, a ton of berries slurped up directly from the bowl, and maybe a dollop of whipped cream on just a few.  What a glorious 21 pounds!  (The pictures are still on my camera.  It was a nice thought…)

There are also 21 pounds standing between me and my summer shorts.  21 pounds between me and my regular pants.  21 evil pounds, not helped along with all of the yummy desserts floating around here…  I’d settle for a few extra pounds if only my belly were a little less gelatinous!

Kenzie is doing great.  She sleeps a lot and doesn’t fuss much at all.  Everyone adores her and there isn’t even a hint of jealousy from anyone.  I wonder if that will change when Grandma leaves?  Oh, my biggest fear.  She’s going to leave and there will be four kids here with just me all day long!  Eek!

Kenzie had her one week checkup on Friday and everything looks great.  I wasn’t looking forward to the visit though, because I knew it was PKU testing day – the first day that someone would take blood from my baby.  When the midwife arrived, I saw the paper and was relieved that the five circles to fill with blood were much smaller than I had remembered.  I think my motherly protective instinct had envisioned them to be much bigger.

The same thing has happened with Kal.  It’s only been a week and suddenly he feels so heavy, so solid, so big.  His head is gigantic and when I pick him up, he’s suddenly gained at least ten pounds.  Where did my baby go?  He seemed so little and now he’s magically transformed.  He still insists on touching my cheek as he falls asleep though, so I know the baby isn’t totally gone.

Kaylynn and Kristin have had a heck of a week.  (It’s quite odd to not be able to just say “the girls” – since the new little one arrived, I need a new phrase!) They were present at Kenzie’s birth and absorbed the miracle of life firsthand.  They were in that moment completely, and I know they will never forget it.  It was a lovely moment to share with them.

Today we got to experience the flip side of that moment – death.  Our guinea pigs have been in a  ”pet co-op” where you basically loan out your pet for a few months to various families but in the end they work their way back to you.  It’s a nice way to get to try out new pets, they get lots of positive attention from the “new” family, and in our case, it meant a few less mouths to worry about while we had our baby.  This morning I got a call from the current host family that Butternut, Kaylynn’s piggie, was not moving and appeared to be dying.  We went over to check her out and sure enough, she was looking pretty bad.  She couldn’t stand up and would not eat or drink.  So, we brought her home.  Kaylynn and Lovey were able to pet her and talk with her before she died, which she did in a very natural but not entirely peaceful way.  They were there when she took her last breath.

Oh, the first brush with death!  How surprising and shocking and difficult!  There were tears and hugs and sadness.  It was hard.  Life and death mingling so closely this week.  Oh, how I wish we could have slowed down this bit of growing up.

Tonight, each of my big girls got out her new Girl Scout vest.  I have them home this week to attach the new patches before the final ceremony and they were squealing with delight to try them on.  Next month they bridge up to the next level and I am reminded how important and significant that these rites of passage are for our children.  It’s also a tangible way for me to see how they are growing.  My sweet girls are growing bigger in so many ways.  It’s very bitter sweet.

I was sitting at my desk and had just turned away as Kaylynn left the room with her math book when I felt the familiar hot wet leak that has signaled baby for my two other youngest children.  It was 8:45am on Tuesday, April 12.  I sat stunned for a minute, digesting the fact that we weren’t yet to 37 weeks but that she was far enough along to be born according to plan.  Then, quietly, I began making phone calls.  No one was answering!  An hour later I had finally reached the midwife and Pat’s mom (she was heading down from Ohio) and cancelled all of our upcoming weekly plans.  I told the other kids what was going on and they were very excited.  A baby, now!  Oh yes.  Soon.

Soon turned into days of waiting.  Nothing happened that first day at all, except that I put together a checklist of still-to-do items and started ticking them off.  We purposefully wandered Target to purchase some last minute items and in the toothbrush aisle my water broke in spectacular fashion, like from every bad pregnancy movie moment.  Pants totally soaked, I waddled my way to the front counter while the girls flew around to get the final essentials.  The nice cashier in the express lane about passed out when I asked to go through her line rather than waiting and I convinced her that I didn’t need any other help except a quick exit.  Kal’s rain coat worked great to keep the van dry as I got home and changed.

And still we waited.  All that night, no contractions.  The next day, still nothing except a quick check with the midwife to ensure everything was OK.  I saw the chiropractor at 4pm and within twenty minutes of leaving his office I had my first real contraction.  They lasted about six hours but never got stronger or closer together.  I rested.  I waited as patiently as I could.

Now it was Thursday, and still no baby or any sort of contraction that made me think labor was coming.  I knew that real labor would not happen for me during the day so we just waited, enjoying the last moments where Kal could touch Kenzie on my belly.  I spent some special time with each of the kids, knowing that it would be difficult to do that in the coming months.  I ate well.  I tried to be patient.  And, as the day wore on, I became increasingly convinced that she would be born that night.

The kids were put to bed in haphazard fashion, instructed to go right to sleep because baby was likely coming, and they did.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t also put the grown-ups to bed, so instead I just acted really cranky to everyone and eventually, after much grumpiness and unnecessary freaking out on my part, I got Pat to lay down with me.  That was a total ruse though, because what I was really doing was putting him to bed so that I could labor quietly in my dark house.

I wandered the halls, more free than I’ve ever felt to try new positions as the contractions were only about ten minutes apart but slowly whittled down to five.  I slept for an hour or so at the beginning, sitting upright, knowing that I’d need the rest.  At about 2am I could tell that things were picking up in intensity so I called Deb, my midwife, and woke up Pat.  This was likely the start of transition for me.  Pat was great, wandering the bedroom and bathroom as I moved around, much more mobile than I’ve been for my other labors.  He applied counter-pressure to my back and that made all the difference.  The contractions were intense and sometimes flowed into one another but they didn’t really get overwhelming and I never felt sick or shaky.

Deb arrived around 3am and before she was done setting up I could tell the contractions were changing.  I had her check me and I was 9.5cm, and starting to feel the tiniest bit pushy.  The tub was filled at my request and I hopped in.  I had only about one more transition contraction in the water – thank-you jacuzzi jets! – before I could tell that she was ready to be born.

And then…  I got the fabled lull between transition and pushing.  It was great, just about fifteen minutes to smile at everyone and talk with them without immediately having the baby.  Grandma, Kaylynn and Kristin were woken up to join in the birth.  I mentally prepared as best I could for this next phase of labor.  I got about two “practice” contractions, where they were very controllable, before the third one hit.  Then there was no stopping the overwhelming sensation of giving birth.  At that first real contraction there was a shuddering pop and the final bit of the water bag burst open.  I’m not sure if it made an audible sound but it felt like it shook my entire body.  After the second one, I could feel her wrinkled head about a knuckle inside me, edging closer.  There was a third contraction where she came almost all the way down but slid back, my one stretch before her head was born.  The fifth contraction completed the journey.  She was born, slowly, with a tangle of cord all around her.  I helped hold her and unwind her and she was suddenly in my arms.   We were only in the water for a minute before I wanted to move to the bed.  The transition was uneventful and finally, there we were, my vision fulfilled, a family gathered on my bed, welcoming our newest arrival.

But let’s back up just a second.  Each contraction was all-consuming and each one brought her physically down further, and although I had hoped that there would be some way to regulate and slow down the process, I know now that my body just doesn’t birth that way.  I am not a fan of pushing, to put it mildly.  But the water and the support of the midwife and my best efforts at slowing down the freight train meant that not only did I avoid tearing, but I didn’t get hemorrhoids or even swelling.  I didn’t even need ice afterward!  My recovery has been a snap.  I am physically tired from staying up all night and working some serious muscles but it is all I can do to remain controlled and not over-do it.  Luckily there is family here and they like taking care of me.

Is there anything I would change here?  Laboring at home, without time contraints despite being ruptured for almost three days?  Avoiding a tear?  Being surrounded by only people hand-picked by me to be at the birth – no strangers?  Watching my girls as they experienced this miracle and internalized it as what a normal birth should be?  Falling asleep in my own bed, with no hospital protocol to wake me up at some undetermined time?

And later, when Pat was there to lay with his newest girl and nap with her as well, not confined to a vinyl rocker or having to deal with parking and shuttling kids around or playing gopher?  We were just a family, right away.

This entire experience was a gift.  It was beautiful and perfect and in some ways very healing for me.  I always knew it could be this way – I believed it to the core of my soul.  Now I have lived it.  I am grateful for everyone who has supported me and for the community that I feel has formed around this new little bundle of life.  I can honestly say that these last three days are the happiest of my life.

Welcome, beautiful Kenzie.  You are surrounded by love.